The Mortal Realms
Arkhos Arkhos is a heavily forested feudal realm, famed for it’s armored lords and their magnificent castles. Though the average Arkhosian lives their life as a downtrodden serf, they remain fiercely loyal to whichever noble house they happen to be born under… at least when questioned by outsiders. In times of war the nobility set aside their unending skirmishes and squabbles, forming one of the most enduring armies in Scy’kadia. Elite highborn knights and household soldiers race ahead, whilst waves of fanatical peasant-militia follow in their wake. A united Arkhos is a threat few have ever faced willingly. The Great Houses Arkhos is ruled by High King Gloric, who struggles to pull many dozens of bickering noble houses together. Six stand above all others in terms of royal favor and material resources… Gloric and his household of Tyberon often find themselves caught between Lord Hwindel of Dalmont and Lady Fazail of Brock, both sworn rivals perpetually seeking to settle old scores. Only time will tell which, if any, Tyberon will support should civil war bloom once more. Tis No Rebellion! Though the Arkhosian nobility flatly deny it, discontent among the peasantry sometimes leads to open revolt. Such protests are swiftly put down, yet rebellious farmers and militiamen always seem to reappear. ‘Ware The Witch Arkhosians are particularly distrustful of Magic, viewing it as a dangerous and lazy substitute for honest toil. Despite this, some nobles secretly employ Mages within their courts. The High King himself is rumored to be patron to a hidden war-wizard school in the capital, Henden. Thaedia Intermittent clouds of ash look down upon this paragon of Human civilization. Between the border volcanoes lie rolling hills, vast vineyards, and cities lined with marble statues. The citizens of Thaedia value education, erecting collegia dedicated to all aspects of knowledge; from agriculture to philosophy to history. Those who do not pursue scholarly or rural careers tend to join The Legion; Thaedia’s permanent military. Thaedian legionnaires are famed as the most disciplined soldiers in all of Scy’kadia, gladly willing to fall upon their own swords by the word of a proven commander. Blood and Politics Politics in Thaedia are dominated less by familial prominence and more by popularity or military influence. It can be a cutthroat arena, with wealthy citizens maneuvering their way to a seat on the Tiered Council, which votes on issues concerning the realm. The current empress of Thaedia, Juliara Investus, holds supreme command of The Legion and rose quickly to power after the last emperor went missing… Fire and Ice The Thaedian capital, Solaria, lies nestled in the shadow of Mount Frostfire. The summit of this dormant volcano is coated in sorcerous ice, but Thaedians give less thought to that arcane mystery than they do to the oddly spicy grapes that grow around it’s base. From these grapes, Fire Wine is derived, a burning delicacy that many find challenging to stomach. Collegia Arcana Though troubled by Magic, Thaedians consider it yet another subject in need of study. The Collegia Arcana, situated just outside Solaria’s walls, is dedicated to this pursuit and it’s Mages are every bit as disciplined as their warrior counterparts in The Legion, whom they often assist against supernatural threats. The Indebted Despite it’s outward appearance of grandeur and sophistication, Thaedia was built by slavery and the practice is still widespread. From citizens selling themselves to pay off debts, to the descendants of captured tribes, to savage gladiators, slaves are an oft overlooked part of Thaedian life. Labelled "Indebted" by their owners, such slaves are marked by collars, tattoos, or brands; all bearing the name or sigil of their owner. Cult Of The Nighthawk Rumor has it that an underground cult exists, one that draws citizens to seek debauched experience over blessed knowledge. They embrace perversion and dabble in dark sorceries, their sigil a black hawk, a mockery of Thaedia’s national emblem, the phoenix. It is believed by some that Dark Elves originally formed this cult, yet scant evidence exists. Frael The sons and daughters of Frael are as varied as the land itself. Bands of camel herders roam across sand swept dunes, heavily pierced tribesmen hunt through insect riddled jungles, and bone-armored raiders trade with spice merchants in ever shifting oasis bazaars. Two things bind these scattered folk together… survival in an unforgiving land and the machinations of the Merchant Seers. From the coastal capital of Maphotepsis, they work to unify Frael, forging a nation to rival Arkhos and Thaedia. Those tribes they do not buy with gold or promise of shared resources, they subjugate and enslave with dozens of mercenary armies. The Merchant Seers Little is known of the five Merchant Seers as they are secretive to a fault. They wear featureless masks in public, surround themselves with powerful enslaved sorcerers, and hide the location of their palace… assuming they even have one. What is known, is that they rule from behind a puppet Sultan; Mehmut the second, of Maphotepsis. The Pharidae Monoliths The Pharidae Union’s necromantic rituals turned huge swathes of the Fraelite populace into undead. To save their surviving populace, the cities of Frael swore fealty to Kalomesch, yet as the Alliance Of The Living drove deeper into their homeland, the Fraelite rose up against their deathless oppressors. All that now remains of the Pharidae are scattered pyramids and obelisks, reportedly haunted by restless ghosts. Bone Hunters The Pharidae made slaves of any tribes surrounding their kingdom and neglected the needs of their living subjects. This tyranny gave rise to one of the most fanatical holy orders in Scy’kadia… the Bone Hunters. Devoted to Kree, they mercilessly hunt all who seek to cheat death. Calythim Wastes Just south of the mountains bordering Lo’Quai, lies a stretch of especially forbidding desert. Almost as arid as the nearby Bone Dust plains, this pale sandy wasteland is home to a tribe of ghostly warriors, the Calythim. They are known for lashing out at travelers with little to no provocation. Jungle Of Claws Although it would seem an ideal place of shelter, given the surrounding desert’s lack of water and scorching heat, this jungle poses many dangers. The trees are filled with vile insects and reptilian monsters prowl the deeper paths. Human tribesmen with red tattoos row from the Sabre Isles with their fearsome Sabre Cats to hunt beneath the canopy. Dotted Faces Traditionally, slaves owned by the city dwellers of Frael are marked as such by dots tattooed or burnt upon their cheeks. The more dots a slave has, the more masters they have been passed between. A young slave with more than three dots is assumed to be unruly, and is sold for much cheaper than an unmarked slave. The Serpent Marshes Remnants of a failed Human kingdom, the barbarian Rhuu clans have but one last place to call their own… The Serpent Marshes. Within their hydra-riddled swamp bastion, at the behest of matriarchal druidic chieftains, the Rhuu have held out for hundreds of years against aggressive expansion by neighboring realms. Rovers The Rhuu never stay in one place for long. Their marsh villages can be likened to something part caravan and part raft. This is perhaps why no invader has yet broken them… you cannot fight what you cannot find. Over the generations, many clans have opted to leave the marshes and seek an easier life on the road. Though they adopt the garb of the lands through which they travel, Rhuu are usually treated with suspicion and scorn, blamed for misfortunes and theft wherever they go. Thus, no matter where they are, a Rhuu will never call any place but the marshes home. The Elder Spirits Survivors of the Kingdom of Rhuul, which was weakened by a plague called The Shivering Gloom, then crushed between Arkhos and Thaedia as they rose to prominence, most Rhuu seek to distance themselves from the Gods of their invaders and oppressors. Instead they pray collectively to three marsh deities; Osud, shield maiden of fate. Potzim, he keeps all clan laws. Zvire, a primal nature spirit, he wears the form of a bear. Vylkland The frozen wastes and icy seas that surround Vylkland breed a fierce and hardy folk. Vylklings pride themselves on their ability to survive where most would surely perish; yet when food grows scant and the weather harsh, they are frequently forced to ply southern waters, seeking plunder and glory in far flung places. As a result, they have become some of the best seafaring fighters in the known world. Of Jarls and Kings Each Vylkling village is led by a battle-hardened Jarl, convinced that he or she knows how best to guide their people. Wars of unification are common, especially during the colder seasons, and many have claimed kingship or queenship… but there is always another Jarl ready to put them in their place. The Bitter North The wastes of northern Vylkland are largely uncharted due to skin-blistering snowstorms and treacherous jagged mountains. Stories tell of cannibalistic tribes and nightmarish creatures emerging from these hellish storms; yetis, ice spiders, and frost wyrms to name but a few… Wolfen Vylkland has a higher than average population of wolf Shifters. They live openly among their follow karls and are treated as equals… just so long as they seek seclusion when the Blood Moon grows full. Kraken Reach Isles Originally a conglomeration of pirates, exiled nautical ne’re-do-wells, and deserters from the Pharidae war, the Krakiids have become a distinct culture in their own right; one devoted to living life to the fullest, no matter the cost… but all the better if someone else pays! A notably fickle and untrustworthy folk, their laugh-at-death humor and devil-may-care courage is nonetheless legendary. The isles for which they are named are notoriously difficult to navigate, surrounded by hidden shoals and sharp reefs which help to protect Krakiid shanty towns from vengeful navy forces. To Be A Pirate King The Grand Corsair of each Krakiid fleet is considered the equal of any mainland regent, at least by the pirates themselves. Therefore it is said that many pirate kings ply the western sea. This can lead to confusion when foreigners seek to parley with combined fleets. The Krakiids take great merriment in confounding enemy diplomats, allowing them to meet with multiple leaders, each claiming the highest authority. They call this game “monarch under cups.” Crew Clans Though the Krakiid do possess ports and villages, many are born and raised aboard their ships. They come to view their fellow crewmembers as relatives, therefore arguments on Krakiid ships are often called “family squabbles.” Terrors Of The Deep Krakiid sailors must stay vigilant for more than just enemy fleets. Sea serpents and the giant squids that earn the isles their moniker hunt the deeps… as do Merfolk, Celestials of N’ray and N’rord, whose hypnotic songs have drawn many unwary seafarers to a watery grave. Cult Of The Kraken Sailors wisely pay homage to the twin Goddesses of the sea, hoping to appease them and their unpredictable messengers. Yet, in recent years a new religion has begun to surface around the isles. Devoted to the worship of a deified kraken, the movement preaches that taking from others is a sacred duty. As to whether this monster deity is real… it’s priests have been known to exhibit healing powers and some manifest tentacle mutations. Mureth The island of Mureth sinks below the waves by the whim of eight ruling Mages, the Scion Council. Along with an unusual acceptance of spellcraft, Murethi are renowned for their techno-magical and alchemical wonders… flash powder rifles, galleons that sail the air, a city that seals itself against the sea’s cold embrace. Nothing seems beyond them and they know it. They view themselves as the next great rising power in Scy’kadia. The Smiling Dragon Human cultures are usually loathe to depict dragons as anything but cruel monsters. The Murethi however emblazon their banners with a grinning silver dragon crowned by eight stars. Most assume this symbol to be nothing more than Murethi irreverence… yet some whisper that The Smiler hints toward a dire secret from the island realm’s founding. The Sinking City The island is named after it’s sole city, built upon layers of arcane wards and clever mechanisms. When invasion looms, the surrounding villages are emptied, their people kept safe within sealed halls and domes. Spellswords To truly grasp Mureth’s cavalier attitude towards Magic, look no further than the Spellswords… swashbuckling mages who answer directly to the Scions. Their duties range from peacekeeping to espionage, always for the furtherance of Murethi ambition. Filled with cocky bravado, they are considered a nuisance by neighboring realms and often embroil themselves in magical affairs that have little to do with them. Sky Ships The famed Murethi air galleons, that use a mixture of alchemy and magic to drift skyward, are a source of national pride... but few in number. The secret to their creation is guarded by the Murethi navy, and the ships themselves are only sent out from the isle on Scion approved business. Lo'Quai Deep within the mountains north of Frael rests a hidden valley. In this remote realm dwells a folk known for mysticism and a strict code of honor. The Lo’Quaim practice patience and moderation in all their endeavors, from martial arts to medicine. They are efficient but often self-denying in their practices. Three Princes The three brothers Seiryu each lay claim to the realm of their deceased father, Emperor Yasuo. They each hold the support of powerful allies. Ryuu the eldest is backed by ancient elementals. Hitodama, the middle son, is pact-bound to the Narga. Misaki the youngest appears to have secured patronage from the sun goddess Lianda herself. Between them, they have split Lo’Quai into competing princedoms; south-west, north-east, and the islands respectively. The Castes Lo’Quaim tend to take on the tradition role of their family and each family is part of a caste. The castes are expected to perform a specific function within society and each is represented by a beastly symbol. The rat caste are a strange lot, expected to help keep crime manageable. Spirit Touched Lo’Quai boasts a higher percentage of Nephilim and Elementari than other Human realms. This is due to their willingness to form close connections with unearthly beings. Many Cambions can also be found within the princedom of Hitodama, especially since his allegiance with Ruin became public. Healing Herbs On the slopes of Lo’Quai valley grow dozens of exotic plants with magical or even medicinal properties. Alchemists & physicians from all over Scy’kadia pay handsomely for just a handful of fresh seeds. Thunder Peaks All but impassable, this massive mountain range is the ancestral home of the Dwarves. Several of their fortress cities remain, including the capital of Broken Stone. Alas, many more have fallen, overrun by Orcs, Dragons, and fouler things. Orcs above all other invaders seem to thrive within the stolen vaults and tunnels, so much so that many call the Thunder Peaks an Orcish realm… just never within earshot of the bearded folk! The Realm Below The Dwarven kingdom is almost entirely subterranean. It sits above miles and miles of tunnels, from which precious metals are dredged. These tunnels also link the surviving Dwarf cities. Unfortunately many have been blocked off or collapsed and Dwarf sentinels must endlessly patrol the depths, searching for signs of invasion from below. Grengulak Once the fastness of a wicked wizard king who sought to mine magically imbued ore, the castle and it’s haphazard labyrinth of caverns are now infested with Orcs and Goblins. A mysterious warchief known as The Red Tusk commands these swarming masses, which now include the ghostly servants of the dead wizard. Hill Folk Some Human and Halfling farming villages perch within the foothills, providing their bearded neighbors with additional food. King Kuargar Ironsoul of Broken Stone honors an ancestral debt to these hardy folk by providing them with protection in times of trouble. Green Fang Forest Last realm of the Elven high mages; Sindorien, as it’s inhabitants know it, is a place of strangeness and secrecy. The forest is filled with arcane loci; there are glades where moonlight spills eternally through the canopy, pools that reflect a mortal’s desires, and paths where time itself slows to a crawl. Some say the trees stand vigil for their Elven masters, warning of danger and even harming foolish trespassers. Yet the forest cannot repel all threats… myriad monsters wander the darkest trails. City Of Light Situated in Sindorien’s very heart, the sparkling city of Fen’arloth is the only untarnished fragment of Elfdom left in Scy’kadia. Queen Vilariel and her highborn consorts protect it from discovery with powerful High Magic wards. None can find it’s crystalline towers without Elven assistance. Little Neighbours A sizeable community of Gnomes and Fae dwell in the forest. Despite their lack of High Magic, they too display an uncanny knack for avoiding intruders and their reverence of Taeyaloo endears them to their Elven guardians. Dark Dryads Before their expulsion from Sindorien, the Dark Elves’ sorcerous experiments sent spiteful ripples through the forest. Scores of elementals were twisted by this malignant energy, becoming wraith-like and filled with malice. The Elves know enough to bypass their shadow-draped glades… others do not… Fey Ring Isles Forever obscured within thick, shifting mists, few have set foot upon the Dark Elves’ chosen domain… save for the slaves brought back from their mainland raids. Steeped in Dark Magic, the isles rival Sindorien in terms of spontaneous arcane occurrences. Unlike the forest realm of their ancestors however, these anomalies are nightmarish rather than majestic. Shadows seem to stalk their owners and phantasmal screams sail the howling winds, as forbidding spire-palaces drift overhead. Infernal Kindred Dark Elves do not serve the Narga, they simply use their power… so it is said. Despite this sentiment, many Cambions exist among the lowborn families, proof of innumerable illicit pacts and ritual mishaps. Pure blooded Dark Elves look down on their half-demon kin and refuse to elevate them to positions of authority. The Ruling Covens Traditionally Elves are led by nobles called Highborn, yet the Dark Elves’ desire for power has led to the birth of a new form of nobility. Talented and pure-blooded dark Mages, they gather into covens, each pursuing their own nefarious goals… often at the expense of their coventry rivals. The Slave Fields Dark Elves busy themselves with only that which piques their curiosity, disdaining to undertake menial tasks. For those, they employ slaves. Whilst household slaves must strive to avoid displeasing their cruel masters, true danger lies upon the desecrated crop fields. There, demons are said to prowl, picking off any who succumb to exhaustion or the inevitable loss of hope. The Crosslands Miles of desolate plains, marred by roads for the swift passage of warring armies and dotted with ancient grave markers; the Crosslands once served as an invasion route between the largest Human realms. Nowadays this grim expense lies deserted, save for passing traders… or so it is believed, by those who know no better. The Deserters As the Pharidae War came to a close, many believed the looming threat of undeath had passed. Yet some true Undead remained. Tired of conquest or resentful of Kalomesch, they “played dead” only to rise once the victors had moved on. They soon found themselves joined by resurrected foes, a side effect of terrible necromancy unleashed during the previous battles. A truce was formed between the deserters and their one-time enemies. The weary Undead carved out secretive barrow-villages beneath the mass graves of old. Undead from other realms sometimes hear of them and come seeking acceptance and sanctuary. Roads Of Silence Traders passing through the Crosslands rarely fall prey to the Undead, who simply wish to remain in obscurity. Rather, most recall an eerie stillness and the creeping sensation of being observed by unseen eyes… The Ride Situated to the north-east, The Ride is a series of windswept hills and grasslands, populated by tribes of Human horseback-raiders. The majority of Scy’kadia’s Centaurs dwell there also, vying for territory with their Human neighbors and gleefully striking at those who wander too far from the Crosslands roads. The Isle of Sulphur Birthplace of Dragons, this island is a blighted, sweltering no-man’s-land. Sparks drift on the hot wind and the very air is poisonous, making it the perfect refuge for Dragons when they are not laying waste to other realms. Dragons Monsters with magically charged souls, they begin their lives as simple reptilian predators, their fiery breath the only hint of arcane power. Yet as the decades pass, a wicked sentience develops. Truly ancient Dragons are frighteningly clever and may even learn spellcraft from enslaved Mages. Most dragons possess wings, those that do not are referred to as Wyrms. The Ashborn Some mortals worship Dragons as deific avatars of destruction. Such fanatics call themselves Ashborn and the most foolish or psychotic make pilgrimage to the Isle Of Sulphur, braving it’s toxic air. Almost all end up as morsels… yet by rare chance a Dragon may decide to keep them as servile pets. Those cultists with a gift for both subterfuge and leadership may be fed draconic blood, forming a link to their reptilian master, before being sent back to the mainland to form new cults. Prolonged consumption of Dragon blood leads to mutation however; patches of scaled skin, forked tongues, slit pupils... and eventually the spy becomes obsolete. At this point the chosen cultist is usually cast aside or eaten. The Weft Site of the vanished Weftyril Empire, the Weft is a lawless badland rife with Wild Magic. The landscape is hard to quantify; whilst the border remains fairly stable, the inner reaches are prone to transformation. Bizarre weather erupts from nowhere and landmarks subtly change from visit to visit. It takes a ridiculously talented or magical navigator to foray inwards and expect to return at all. Exiles and refugees have long attempted to establish themselves in the Weft. As a result, the outskirts are littered with the remnants of fortifications, few of which remain inhabited except by bizarre monsters. Precious little remains of the Weftyril themselves, save for occasional menhirs or walls of star-speckled stone. Yet adventurers do uncover the odd relic and news of these valuable discoveries spreads fast, drawing opportunistic treasure hunters like flies to honey. Tavern Towns Exile kingdoms are rarely permanent in the Weft, yet inns and taverns prosper. As the last signs of civilization before reaching the Inner Weft, they often become staging points for expeditions. Merchants setup shop beside them, gathering eclectically until small townships take shape. The Drift Mounts Levitating mountains, one of the most obvious and wondrous manifestations of the Weft’s arcane oddity. They are difficult to reach, but offer considerable protection from ground-based attackers. The River Wyrd Being so far inland, it can come as a shock to realize that pirates and other nautical groups do infact make their way Weftward. The River Wyrd stretches through much of what used to be Rhuul and flows across the Weft’s northern border. Though large vessels cannot sail directly into the Weft, this waterway allows their crew to deploy close, or to make further ingress via landing vessels. The journey itself is not pleasant, as first sailors must brave the seas and whatever naval forces guard their chosen entrance, then as they approach the Weft strange and hostile creatures start to swim in their wake. Portals The Weftyril were fond of portals, crafting myriad gateways for instantaneous travel throughout their empire. Scores remain, for those who know where to look, but few are active and of those which are, some lead to perfectly mundane locations… others lead to grave peril… The Heart Of Weft The epicenter of the Weftyril Empire is now a kingdom-sized blast crater. An enormous portal stands unmarred within and is said to have been used in the forging of Ruin. The crater and it’s surrounds are heavily desecrated with Dark Magic, plagued by sporadic demon incursions. Though the portal appears dormant, it calls insistently to those who serve the Narga.